The Invitation
by hotchityhotchhotch
Summary: Oneshot. Emily gets invited to Hotch's place for New Year's Eve. What happens when she shows up? COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I started writing this a couple of weeks ago and tons of other stories kind of pushed it to the back burner. I plan on writing one more part. :)**

The chill took a while to leave Emily's body when she entered the BAU on Friday, December thirty-first. She regretted not wearing a heavier sweater; as she sat at her desk, she was tempted to put her coat back on. "Morning," she said to Reid.

"Good morning." Reid was already immersed in his work and didn't even look up. Emily decided she definitely needed coffee, so she went to make herself some. She came back about five minutes later, having had caught Morgan and chatted a bit with him. There was a red greeting card sized envelope, her name written across the front in a familiar scrawl. She sat down and slid her finger under the flap. The front of the card was silver with white glittery snowflakes. The inside had been blank upon purchase. It now read:

_Emily,_

_I apologize for not asking you sooner, but I was hoping you could come to my apartment this evening. I'm frankly too scared to say this aloud to you, but I want to get to know you as more than Agent Prentiss. I figured a New Year's Eve together could be a nice start. I'm sure you understand I wish for this to remain private, at least for now, so please find a subtle way to let me know whether you can make it. I hope to see you at my place tonight. I hope 9:00 suits you._

_Aaron_

Emily smacked the card against her desk immediately and looked around, her heart pounding. Had anyone seen the card? Had anyone seen her read it? _Get a hold of yourself, Emily. It's the holiday season. People get cards. Cards often have things written in them. It's not suspicious_. But the way she glanced around her was.

"What's that?" Reid asked.

"What?" Emily said quickly, hiding the card behind her back as she turned her chair to face Reid.

"The card you're hiding behind your back," Reid said, still not even looking up.

"It's just…a card," Emily said.

"From whom?"

"Garcia," Emily said quickly.

"Then why are you hiding it?"

"It's got a dirty joke in it." Emily was glad Reid wasn't the type to get into that kind of thing. He finally stopped interrogating her.

_Do I go? _Emily wondered. She made sure Reid still wasn't looking before she cracked open the card again, chuckling to maintain her cover. It was definitely Hotch's handwriting. No doubt about it. She peered up into his office window, but he must have been sitting at his desk or was elsewhere because she didn't see him.

…_Find a subtle way to let me know whether you can make it…_

Emily supposed that if she could catch Hotch's attention and simply nod at him pointedly, he'd probably clue in. But was she going to accept the invitation? She wanted to, more than anything. The idea of an evening away from work with him sounded like something out of one of her many fantasies. She wasn't going to read into whether he felt the same way, though. She convinced herself that the card was rather ambiguous—could be romantic, could be just friendly—she didn't want to fool herself.

She managed to concentrate on her work until their daily briefing. Hotch wasn't in the conference room yet when she arrived—actually, nobody was—so she took a seat across from the door so that maybe she could catch his eye when he walked in. Everyone else trickled in one by one, Hotch being the last. His arrival sent Emily's heart sputtering into her throat. She was successful in establishing eye contact, so she nodded, trying to make it more than a nod of acknowledgment one might give another instead of a "hello."

Hotch just looked weirdly at her. But then he nodded back and took a seat. Emily was relieved that she'd at least gotten attention, but the odd look worried her.

Emily wanted desperately to talk to JJ, who knew all about her little work crush. She would be thrilled, most likely. But talking to JJ would not be playing along with the theme of not getting herself hyped up over something that could be nothing. So she kept the invitation a secret.

Emily was glad the team was on stand down until Monday, otherwise she wasn't sure when an opportunity like this would present itself again. The whole day seemed to whirr by her in fast motion, with her standing relatively still, like some strange sort of special effect trick. And even more oddly, she didn't see Hotch all day. He usually came down into the bullpen at least for coffee. Maybe he didn't want to make anyone suspicious. _Yes, that's it. _

A couple of hours before quitting time, she realized she was just sitting at her desk, daydreaming about what would happen that night, instead of actually working. She literally wanted to slap herself on the face to snap herself out of it, but figured that might be a bit obvious. She fought off visions of kisses and lovemaking until it was time to pack up.

Emily dreaded walking back out into the winter chill, which, she could see through the windows, now included ridiculous amounts of snow. She loved snow…from inside. Driving in it, however, was something she typically left up to others, given the chance. Hotch was still up in his office, taking one last look down into the bullpen before getting ready to leave, himself.

Two hours later, Emily was rushing into the liquor store, out of the blizzard that swirled in uncontrolled rage outside. Her knuckles were still white from her drive to Hotch's side of town, but she knew it would be worth it. She picked up two mini bottles of champagne, deciding that such a gesture could be taken as friendly, should Hotch make it obvious that he wasn't _romantically_ interested in her. But they could also be taken as romantic, if need be. It was only five after eight when she reached Hotch's door. She'd been hoping to be more fashionably late. _Oh, well,_ she thought. _The man's got a kid. He probably doesn't even know what time it is anyway. _Upon that thought, Emily wondered whether tonight's plans included Jack. She hadn't thought of that. Had Hotch left him with Jessica for the night? Maybe that would be a good indicator of where Hotch saw this going. If Jack was still home, then it was probably supposed to be a friendly visit. If Jack was gone, then most definitely Hotch had meant for it to be a date.

She brushed the snow off of her black wool jacket, her knit scarf, and the fronts of her dark wash jeans (a dress would not have left options open, as much as she loved the idea of wearing one for Hotch). Then she knocked.

"Prentiss," Hotch said, surprised, as he opened up. "What…brings you here?"

Though Hotch clearly hadn't been expecting her, he apparently thought it rude to leave her standing in the hallway and instead opened the door and gestured her inside.

"Umm, well…" Emily's heart sank like a rock. She wondered who the hell could have found this funny. She sighed and, glancing around the apartment, everywhere but at Hotch, really, she fished the card out of her purse. She was about to hand it to him when she realized how dangerous that could be. Hotch looked at her expectantly but Emily tucked the card back inside her purse. If he read it, he would know why she came tonight. Plus, the fact that she was a profiler made it all the more embarrassing that she had fallen for the cruel prank. She should have known better. Did those words even sound like Hotch's? _No._ And handwriting was easy enough to fake…

"Prentiss?" Hotch repeated, frowning.

The rumbling voice of Boris Karloff nostalgic narration of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" reached Emily's ears, and she saw the top of Jack's head from behind the couch.

"Just thought I'd drop by and say, 'Happy New Year,'" Emily fumbled.

"Oh. Well, happy New Year. Jack and I were just watching the Grinch, if you'd like to join us."

"I thought they stopped showing that after Christmas," Emily said, unbuttoning her jacket.

"I have it on tape. It's one of my favorites," Hotch said. He politely helped Emily take off her jacket and hung it up while she crouched down to remove her high heeled boots. "Coming down out there, isn't it?" Hotch said.

"Yeah, it is…"

"Champagne?" Hotch asked, stepping into the kitchen. "And don't say no, because I don't want to have to drink this whole bottle on my own."

"Well, then. Sure."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. Want more? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to post! Had a huge paper due, then spent the rest of the week not sleeping, ha...anyhow, enjoy!**

**P.S. Thanks to SussiRay for reading this over for me!  
**

"Didn't have any plans of your own tonight?" Hotch asked as he refilled his own champagne flute and prepared one for Emily as well.

Emily was tempted to high-tail it right then and there, but knew she'd have to face Hotch on Monday. She couldn't hide forever. "Nah," she said in a nonchalant tone of voice.

"That's a shame," Hotch said flatly, handing Emily her champagne.

"You don't wait until it's at least close to midnight?" Emily asked with a shy grin.

Hotch tipped his glass to her, shook his head, lifted his eyebrows, took a sip of champagne, and brought the bottle into the living room with him. Emily followed.

"Jack, say hi to Miss Emily. Remember her from my work?"

Jack, who had been so enthralled with the movie, didn't notice they had a guest until his father snapped him out of it. Jack nodded, then looked back at the television.

"Jack, don't be rude. Say hello."

"Hi," Jack said to the television.

"Hi, sweetie." Emily chuckled while Hotch rolled his eyes at her.

"Can you scoot over to the end of the couch so we can sit down too?" Hotch asked. Jack obeyed, his eyes remaining glued on the screen. Hotch took the middle cushion; Emily tucked one of her feet under herself as she lowered herself next to Hotch, careful not to touch him.

_This is easy enough_, she thought. _We can finish the movie, which only has about ten minutes left, and then I can politely excuse myself._

But eventually Hotch started narrating with Boris Karloff. "And the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling. How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! And he puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore." Emily heard Jack giggle at his dad's antics. Hotch couldn't recite the entire remainder of the movie, but he had the catchy bits committed to memory and showed off a little here and there. Emily kept staring straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the movie when all she could think about was that it was swiftly coming to an end and she didn't really have an exit strategy.

"Emily, wanna see what I got for Christmas?" Jack asked the second his dad turned off the movie, before Hotch had a chance to announce that it was bedtime.

"It's _Miss_ Emily, Jack, and no, it's bedtime," Hotch said anyway, not ready to let a five-year-old set his own rules.

"Please, Daddy?" Jack climbed into his dad's lap and hugged him around the neck, his cheek resting on Hotch's shoulder opposite Emily. Emily couldn't suppress her huge smile, but she did have to silence her giggles. Hotch shook his head in defeat and pried Jack off of him.

"Why don't you ask Miss Emily if it's okay with her?"

"Can I?" Jack asked Emily.

Emily eyed Hotch and shot him a half-grin. "Of course."

"Just one," Hotch said, but Jack was already halfway to his bedroom.

"He's so cute," Emily said, looking at her empty champagne flute. _When did I drink all of that?_

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to let you go empty there," Hotch said, picking up the bottle.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't—"

"Nonsense," Hotch said, tilting the bottle near Emily's glass until she relented and held it steady for him. He topped off his own glass while was at it.

"Thanks," Emily said halfheartedly.

"Everything all right?" Hotch asked. Before Emily had a chance to answer, Jack rounded the corner with an armful of toys, some of which hadn't even been unboxed yet.

"Hey, I said _one_ thing," Hotch chided.

"I couldn't pick just one," Jack said, dumping the toys on the floor in front of the couch.

"Sorry," Hotch mouthed to Emily while rolling his eyes slightly. She waved a dismissive hand at him and gave Jack her full attention while he gave a full description of half a dozen toys, including who'd given each one to him and what each one could do. "All right, all done," Hotch announced, getting up from the couch. "Let's go brush your teeth and get your PJs on." He picked up half of the toys while Jack picked up the other half. "Excuse me for a few minutes?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. Take your time."

"Be right out."

Emily sighed heavily once Hotch was out of earshot. She figured she was still sober enough to drive, but how would she explain dropping by unannounced just for fifteen or twenty minutes when there was a blizzard outside? A potential solution to this problem sat in a green glass bottle in front of her. She was already feeling a little warm from the first glass, which helped take the edge off a tiny bit. She knew not to trust herself enough to get completely wasted, but finishing her second glass couldn't hurt if it would ease her nerves a little.

"Oh, sorry, I should've told you how to work the TV," Hotch said ten minutes later.

"I was fine," Emily said. "Looks pretty self-explanatory, anyway."

"Not really. There are three remotes. I think Jack knows the setup better than I do."

"Well, I guess you're not home much. I don't remember when I bought half the stuff in my fridge, if it makes you feel better," she offered.

Hotch's eyes brightened and he reclaimed his seat next to Emily, orienting himself slightly toward her and not taking advantage of the extra space Jack had been occupying. "Just so you know, he'll be up again in three minutes for a glass of water, a minute after that to use the bathroom, and two minutes after that for me to come tuck him in again."

"Sounds like he's got you wrapped around his little finger if he gets away with that every night you're home."

"Tell me about it. It's hard to say no to him, though, when I'm gone so much." Hotch slung his arm casually over the back of the couch. It wasn't until then that Emily noticed Hotch was in jeans and a sweater not far from the color of her own. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so casually dressed, so comfortable, so common. Just as she was wondering how best to situate her body, her face, given that Hotch's body language was catching her a bit off guard with its friendliness, Jack came out clad in blue footie pajamas for a glass of water like Hotch had promised. Apparently, a cup was set aside for this purpose, as Hotch didn't even get up to help Jack. He just watched over the back of the couch as Jack grabbed a cup from the counter top, filled it halfway, and drank, returning to his room afterward. Hotch settled in facing forward again, cocking one eyebrow at Emily as he downed some champagne. "Fifty-five seconds," he said. True to form, Jack padded across the hallway from his room into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Hotch's lips turned up at the sight of Emily giggling silently. They both heard him return to his bedroom once he was done. "Any second now," Hotch said after a couple of minutes of amused silence.

"Daddy, can you come tuck me in again?" Jack asked from the hallway.

"Be right back," Hotch muttered to Emily, leaving his champagne behind. He was only gone a minute this time. "Are you hungry?" Hotch asked as he passed back through the kitchen. "We just had pizza for dinner, but it was pretty good."

"Oh, no, thanks. I'm fine," Emily called back from the couch. She stared at the blank television screen, wondering what was next.

"I was going to channel surf, unless you have any better ideas," Hotch said casually as he sat down next to Emily once again.

"After that last case, I'm out of ideas," Emily said.

"Ooh, I definitely need one of those," Hotch joked dryly once an infomercial popped up on the screen. He leaned forward to grab his champagne, and when he sat down, Emily swore he'd moved an inch or two closer. "Because I spend so many hours chopping vegetables by hand."

"I know, right?" Emily agreed. "What time does the New Year's Eve special on TV start? The one with Dick Clark?" Emily asked.

Hotch shook his head absentmindedly. "It's not what it used to be when we were younger. When's the last time you watched?"

Emily laughed. "Probably about ten years ago."

"It was already going downhill by then. How about…" Hotch flipped through ten channels, after which point he just wanted to give up. "Simpsons reruns?"

"How could I say no to that?" Emily took her foot out from underneath her and let it join the other on the floor; it was falling asleep.

Hotch silently leaned forward once again to set the remote on the coffee table, and yet again not-so-sneakily sat down closer to Emily, his arm resting on the back of the couch, brushing against her hair. This obvious move made her feel like a nervous teenager at the movies. She was surprised he wasn't playing the yawning move to get his arm around her. No, he had balls. He was just going for it. He wasn't trying very hard to remain subtle. It was almost like he was trying to test her. She supposed she couldn't complain. No, she _definitely_ couldn't complain. The man she'd fantasized about for years was finally making a move. It didn't matter how she'd gotten here, who'd made up the invitation. Hotch didn't care. Emily no longer cared.

"So, do you have any New Year's resolutions?" Hotch asked offhandedly during a commercial break.

Emily shrugged. "Catch more unsubs, eat fewer cheeseburgers. You?"

"Sounds about right…" Apparently he'd intended for a deeper conversation to occur than what he was getting out of her, because he turned his face toward her. She met his eyes, unable to justify avoiding them.

"What?" A smile spread across her face without her permission. The longer Hotch just stared at her with the tiniest of glimmers in his eyes, the wider her smile grew. She was already flushed from the champagne and knew the pink was only creeping further.

For a split second, Hotch's face approached hers, closing in maybe just a millimeter. But he seemed to rethink that, and grabbed the remote to switch off the television first. Apparently, all pretenses were out the window this time, Emily realized, as Hotch didn't leave a sliver of space between their legs when he sat back down. And he didn't use the couch as a means to put an arm behind her. He instead used two fingers to brush away the dark curtain of hair away from her cheek. Emily's smile slowly faded into a half open pair of red lips, which she wanted so much to lick it was killing her. She held her breath as Hotch's face drew closer, his hazel eyes still locked on hers.

"I had one more New Year's resolution besides catching more unsubs and eating fewer cheeseburgers," Hotch murmured right before the tip of his nose touched Emily's cheek. Upon contact, an intense heat radiated throughout Emily's entire body, through every blood vessel. Who was this man that he could do such things to her? She'd had sex less exhilarating than Hotch's damned nose touching her cheek. When she felt the gentle brush of his lips, she realized she needed air. She exhaled and inhaled as quietly as she could, waiting to see what he would do next. Both his hands found her neck, bracing her face before he backed away a bit to gaze at her again. He just needed permission, and she granted it with a single blink and the closing of the space between them. Once their lips touched and she closed her eyes, she couldn't have opened them if she'd tried. At some point before Hotch broke away for half a moment and then pressed his mouth more firmly against Emily's, she slithered her hands up and over his shoulders.

The somewhat humiliating middle-schooler mood of the situation wasn't helped by the fact that they both still had their feet planted on the floor, turned only from the waist up to kiss. Emily wanted to be closer to Hotch, and much to her delight, he seemed either to read into that or desire the same. He was nudging her gently backwards, waiting until her back rested against the arm of the couch before he teased her lips open with his tongue. She hummed reflexively against his mouth, eliciting a miniscule laugh from him as he transferred his hands to the arm of the couch. While his tongue roamed around her mouth, he shifted his body over hers, but didn't lower onto her. As much as she wouldn't have minded his full body weight pressing her into the soft couch, there was no promising that Jack was really sleeping, or that he wouldn't wake up and come out of his room for some reason. This was Hotch's only motivation to hover above Emily, and Emily's only motivation not to pull him down with her.

Eventually, more air was needed than what their noses could provide, and Hotch peeled his lips off of Emily's, but just barely. His hot breath, coming up from deep within his lungs and rushing out between his lips, mingled between them. Before long, Emily reached her neck up and snatched Hotch's bottom lip as gently as she could between her teeth, using her hands to pull him back down just a little, only so that she could rest her head back on the couch and didn't have to leave it hanging in midair. Hotch let out a shameless moan, tugged his lip away from Emily, and tried to get back at her. His tongue slipped deeper into Emily's mouth when she opened wider for him, affording him more room to explore, and more room for her tongue to do some exploring of its own. With each lunge at one another's mouths, each invasion of space, each and every sigh and moan, Emily felt herself less and less driven to keep things tame, to take things slowly. It wasn't just the alcohol talking. After all, she hadn't had much. No, her body was doing most of the talking, and it was telling her that it didn't matter that this was her boss, or that his son was down the hall; it was telling her she hadn't been with a man in months, and there was absolutely no better man with whom to end the dry spell. Luckily, Hotch had a bit of good judgment left in him and gradually lightened the kiss to the point where he could naturally break away from her without it seeming abrupt or communicating some sort of regret. The only things either of them felt at the separation were complete contentedness and a residual adrenaline rush.

Emily licked her lips quickly while she tickled the back of Hotch's neck and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh from him. She forced her eyes open, finally, to see Hotch's open just after hers. He met her lips one last time before dotting other areas of her face with tender, lingering kisses. "That was my other resolution," he announced right before pressing his lips to Emily's cheekbone.

"So you _did _give me the card?"

"What card?" Hotch asked curiously, but he seemingly wasn't curious enough to cease the kisses.

"I guess not, then. The reason I came here tonight was because someone left an invitation for me. It was kind of vague, so I wasn't sure whether I should come or not, because I couldn't figure out the intent…of course, that doesn't really matter, since you didn't write it. I just sound silly now."

"JJ," Hotch said with a chuckle, finally pulling away a considerable distance and pulling Emily up with him by the hands.

"What about her? Did she write it?"

Hotch smiled broadly, which still seemed uncharacteristic for him, even given the circumstances. "She asked me what my resolution was yesterday."

"And you told her it was to make out with me?" Emily asked with a smirk, leaning sideways into the couch and rubbing the tips of Hotch's fingers.

He laughed softly. "I told her I wanted to move on and fall in love again."

Emily couldn't keep her eyes from widening a bit at that potent word. "Oh? And she just assumed you meant me, or was she taking a shot in the dark?"

"She asked if it was you, and I have a really hard time lying to any of you outright," Hotch said with a resigned shrug. "Did it look like my handwriting?"

"Yes. I'm gonna kill her," Emily said, laughing as she raked her hair back from her forehead.

"You didn't like the end result?" Hotch teased, grasping her hands more securely.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I just feel kind of embarrassed, to be honest. I feel like the butt of a joke."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it that way," Hotch said gently. "She was just trying to help out her friends. I take it she knew that you..."

"Yeah." Emily smiled distantly, disappointed in her inability to trust that what Hotch was saying was true. "It's getting nasty out. I should probably go while I can still drive in it."

Hotch just held her hands tighter, though. "You came to ring in the New Year with me, didn't you?"

"I really can't stay." Emily knew she was being silly.

"Baby, it's cold outside," Hotch sang quietly.

"Oh, no, no, we are _not_ having karaoke," Emily said, mouth opened in a terrified 'O.'

"If you stay, I promise not to sing anymore." Hotch stared at Emily in anticipation. Upon realizing that she wasn't going to resist anymore, he grabbed the remote control, scooted to the other end of the couch, half lying down, and motioned for Emily to join him.

"What about all that champagne?" Emily asked before backing up and nestling into Hotch's chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist and just barely touched his lips to her hair.

"We have a few hours."

**The End**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I appreciate them :)  
**


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